Nothing, No one, and Nowhere
by Voyager Wisp
Summary: Noah.


The whole entire mansion had seemed large and sterile, not at optimized for the two children who now were living in it. The bed Mokuba slept in was giant, enough for several kids his size to spread out. The living room contained plush, almost untouched furniture, the light colored upholstery seeming like it could get dirty just from sitting on it. The large dining table was made of real wood, and extended out into an even larger room, just too much for the now family of three. Walking from one room to another involved long halls and fancy staircases.

It had the feeling of a museum rather than a home. Of course, Mokuba had to work to get over that. This was much better than where he had been previously, and many from there would envy him. It was something new, but not something bad. He should be, no, completely _was_ able to get used to the over-the-top luxury, no problem. He was also getting used to the bad-tempered man who seemed to have long forgotten his own childhood and not been around any children since. Mokuba even made efforts to treat him as he might a father.

"I'm home," he said to the man one day, having to walk far into the mansion to do so, the same sentence not heard at the door.

Gozaburo looked up from his work, his glare showing annoyance overpowered by confusion. "Where did you go?" he asked.

"School."

"Right." The man's expression remained sharp, but lost its antagonism. "Sit down, I know you have some papers I'll need to look at."

Mokuba nodded and did so, taking out his bag just as the phone rang. There were notes about his class, his studies, and some work he'd already done. Sitting alert as the conversation continued on and on was boring. Looking around, more of the dull yet polished fanciness was expected, and it was. It was just, there was something out of place as well.

Putting his papers on the seat he'd been sitting, Mokuba crawled to see it, carefully placed on the bottom shelf of a bookcase. As the basket was pulled out, it revealed that the colorful objects were a group of toys very unlike what he'd come to expect from this house. Taking them out one by one, Mokuba found toy cars, figures of characters in shows he'd seen, small balls, a fun top. As he spun it and looked at them further, Mokuba noted that the toys were dinged and otherwise marred, obviously used, not at all like what he'd come to expect from the possessions in this house. A plush dog in particular looked like it had been played with many times, the fur worn to nothing in one spot.

Were these for him? They seemed too childish for Seto. The proper thing to do would be to say thank you if they were, but it seemed out of character. Why wouldn't this man just buy something new? And more than that, why did he have them, sitting on a bottom shelf among pristine book volumes? It must be just an effort, and Mokuba would make one too, enjoying the gifts. He found a wind up music box on the bottom, then twisted it to hear the melody.

As he played it, Gozaburo stood up, dropping the phone he'd been holding. "Where did you get that?" he demanded, almost if not shouting.

Mokuba shuddered, trying his best to respond. "It was right there." He pointed, all while supposing he should have waited to be offered or at least asked. "What are they?" he asked, though it was obvious they were toys acquired for a child to play with.

"Nothing," Gozaburo said sharply. He grabbed the basket and threw in the music box, cracking it and stopping the melody suddenly. He followed with everything else before storming out, cursing outside at one of servants. Mokuba tensed at the noise. He sat before trying to listen to some of the muffled conversation to get an idea of Gozaburo's weird reaction, and what might have been done to cause it. Not much was heard before the man walked back in.

Mokuba jumped as he did, holding the papers close, eyes wide. His father went to his desk, hanging up the phone without comment before he folded his hands, now turning all his attention to his recently adopted son. "Let me see," he said.

Mokuba pushed over everything he'd brought home, hoping it was what was wanted. He watched the serious man closely, seeing no indication of a positive or negative reaction. Gozaburo eventually put all the papers down in a neat stack. "Your teacher wants to meet with me. Tell her that's not going to happen for a while."

"Okay. I mean, I will." Mokuba tried to be agreeable and speak politely.

"She says you're doing well," Gozaburo continued without comment. "Keeping up what's expected in first grade."

Mokuba nodded.

"Good, good. I had some concerns."

"Why?" Mokuba asked.

"Well, I know your brother knows, but maybe he hasn't talked about it. You see, I have a bit of wealth, more money than the average person."

"Yeah," Mokuba said, unsure of how else to react to the implication he'd miss something so obvious. Of course, that was even the motivation for wanting to be adopted by this person in the first place.

"It took a while to acquire it. Do you think it makes me superior to the average person?"

Mokuba shrugged, or rather brought his arms up uncomfortably as he folded them, looking away. "Um..." he began.

"Go on, tell me what you think," Gozaburo goaded.

"I guess... I mean, you can do whatever you want, right?" Mokuba said.

"You'd be right. But it's still hard work to maintain that superiority, that status. Never get too complacent."

"What's that mean?" Mokuba asked. He really wanted to be compliant, but wasn't sure what his adoptive father was getting at.

"If you start to see yourself as too above the rest of humanity, you'll become arrogant. Forget about the stepping stones, the people that got you where you are. Maybe you'll start to see the rest of the people as disposable. You'll think you're just living in a world for yourself."

"Who thinks like that?" Mokuba asked.

"No one," Gozaburo snapped.

Mokuba wished he hadn't spoken. Gozaburo must have been talking about himself. He wouldn't like to talk about how he'd done bad things before. "I won't do that," Mokuba assured, forcing a smile as he tried to respond to the advice he thought he was being given. "Everyone's helped me a lot. I'll thank my new teacher, I won't forget my old ones, and you and Seto too. Thanks for everything, Dad."

The smile wasn't returned, though the man's next words implied approval. "Good," he said. "When your foundation crumbles, so will you. Don't forget that. Who knows where you'll end up."

"Where's that?" Mokuba asked, worried he meant back at the orphanage. Apparently, being sent back was a consistent threat, though not yet directly to him.

"Nowhere," Gozaburo said.

Mokuba tensed again, unable to keep caring about what the man thought after getting kind of answer. A person had to be somewhere. Mokuba tried to picture being nowhere, some location that wasn't really a location and couldn't be described. What would that be like, lonely with nothing and nobody else nearby? Where was nowhere? And what would this person do to make him end up there? As Mokuba considered all this, Gozaburo's hand came down on his shoulder, a rare semi-pleasant expression on the man's face as their eyes met.

"You have some work to finish, don't you?"

"Yes." Mokuba stood, picking up the inspected unfinished work from where Gozaburo had placed it on the desk.

"Eager to do it, I see. That's good personal responsibility. You and Seto should be fine."

Even that positive statement brought a few questions to mind, adding to the remaining ones from the conversation they'd just had. But perhaps it was better to leave things with this person in a rare good mood, especially since he hadn't liked the previous inquiries. Mokuba just nodded rather than ask anything else. "Thanks Dad," he said before leaving the room.


End file.
